


Hogwarts Shenanigans

by Mariadoria



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Daily Stories, Future, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Hogwarts, One Shot Collection, Past, Professor Neville Longbottom, present, the floor is lava
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:21:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28239150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mariadoria/pseuds/Mariadoria
Summary: Little moments matter. Though often overshadowed by the major events of any certain world, little moments make up everything a world is. From the distant past to the far future, little moments need to be shared, and here is where that shall happen. Hogwarts doesn't know what's going to hit it.+++A series of one shots, with one being posted each day. Let's see how this goes.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my new series, Hogwarts Shenanigans. 
> 
> This is a series of vignettes (or one-shots, whatever you want to call them), both canon and AU, that explores different scenarios and ideas,.There will be humour, fluff, romance, family and more. Everything you can imagine, from all eras and places. Each chapter is a different, self-contained story, though they are set in a wider shared universe. I’ve been wanting to write this for a long time, so I am very excited to share this with you.
> 
> There is also another challenge to this. I am going to try and post a one-shot a day, starting today, the twenty-third of december, and go on for exactly a year. This is going to be interesting.
> 
> I decided to start this story off with a heartwarming piece, before descending deep into the bowels of mischief and magic  
> .  
> So, without further ado, let us begin!

In three months, Minerva McGonagall was retiring.

For thirty years she held the highly esteemed position of Headmistress of Hogwarts. For thirty years, she fought against bullying and discrimination, unthreading the long-running hatred between houses and re-stitching the tapestry. She was no fool, though. There was still a very long way to go.

She needed someone who would take what she accomplished and make it more. Make it better. Someone with a kind heart, a steady head, patience, loyalty to both the school and their morals. A gentle person who could also be stern, who knew how to teach. Someone who she trusted, who she knew would treat the position with the respect it deserved and not use it to their own advantage.

Time to go and talk to them.

* * *

Neville Longbottom, fifty-three years old, puttered around Greenhouse Three. Grey streaked his dark hair, crows feet spreading out from the edge of his eyes. Smile lines surrounded his mouth, signs of a happy life. Others would curse the signs of age. Not Neville. Inside his quarters, there was a little ceramic sign that read, 'Do not regret growing old for it is a privilege denied to many.' After the war, it was something he wholeheartedly believed in.

As well as being the Herbology Professor at Hogwarts, he was Head of Gryffindor House and Deputy Headmaster. He adored the positions. The duties, though there were many, were taken upon with a vigour not seen since Headmistress McGonagall was in charge of the house. He liked to think that the students as fond of him as he was of them. Every time they smiled, or laughed, lit his heart aflutter with joy.

Some might say his life was simple. Boring. It was anything but. And little did Neville Longbottom know, his life was about to become a whole lot more interesting.

A sharp knock sounded on the frame of the glasshouse. Without looking up, he already knew who it was. Only one indomitable witch knocked in such a succinct manner.

"Professor, come in!" He finished up with the plant he was currently tending to. It was a descendant of the Mimbulus Mimbletonia his grandmother gave him all those years ago and was thriving under his care. With a swish of his wand, he cleared all the excess dirt away from the workbench. On second thought, he did the same to his clothes.

"How many times have I told you to call me Minerva?" she chuckled, walking over to the workbench. Neville glared at a particularly cheeky Devil's Snare as she went under it. The plant practically wilted under his eyes. "You've been working here for thirty years already, I think you can drop the 'professor'."

"I don't think that's ever going to happen." Neville paused for a second, sending a cheeky glance her way. "Professor."

"You never learn, do you?"

"Not with this, no." He wiped his hands down on his shirt (so much for the spell to get rid of it) and invited McGonagall over to the small corner of the greenhouse he kept clean. A well-worn desk and chair sat there, as well as supplies for writing. On the corner, a small wireless radio perched.

Neville duplicated the seat and offered the original to McGonagall. She sat down with a small smile. For some reason, his heart started to beat a bit quicker. That smile...there was something about it that he couldn't quite put his finger on. It reminded him of something from his past.

"You're probably wondering what I'm here about."

"Seeing as you haven't told me, yeah. Nothing bad, I presume?"

She shifted slightly in her seat. "Depends on what you think is bad, I suppose."

"Well, go on." Neville leaned forward in his seat. He was unable to deny the excitement snapping through his veins.

"You are aware that I am retiring in three months, correct?" Neville nodded. "You are also aware that I am yet to find a replacement to take the position of Headmaster. I've done quite the extensive search looking for a suitable Headmaster. The only person that I am comfortable giving the position to is you."

There was a moment of silence. Neville's eyes widened imperceptibly. "Professor...what?"

"You heard me correctly, Neville. I want you to be the next Headmaster of Hogwarts. I believe that you will be perfect for the position. No one else even came close to your level of suitability."

She leaned back in her chair. Neville suddenly saw how _old_ she was. The years weathered her, wrinkles lining her face even more than when he was a student. McGonagall was well over a century old, her shockingly white hair pulled back into a bun, severe as ever. If he didn't know how strong her character was, Neville would peg her for someone who would keel over at a moments notice. Her body was just that frail, save for her impossibly strict posture. It was no secret that every day she came closer to her deathbed, every step she took possibly the last. She knew, having come to peace with it a long time ago.

Neville swallowed, suddenly feeling as if the world was squatting on his shoulders with no intent to leave. "What makes me suitable?" He mentally cursed himself. Of all the asinine things to ask it had to be that. No. It wasn't the question itself, merely the phrasing. _Merely._ The phrasing was a big problem. Here he was, sitting at his soil encrusted desk, with Headmistress McGonagall across from him, and all he could do was ask silly questions.

"Neville, you're overthinking again," laughed McGonagall.

He blinked owlishly, a deer caught in the headlights. He was. Overthinking, that is. One of his fatal flaws, he did it when presented with big news or when he made a grievous mistake. If anything qualified as big news, it was this.

"You caught me," he sighed, putting his head in his hands. "I'm scared, is all. After all these years, I still doubt myself, whether I'm deserving of being Head of Gryffindor. I love being here so much." He cleared his throat, sitting up straight and looking McGonagall dead in the eyes. "In your eyes, what makes me capable of the position of Headmaster?" The phrasing was better that time, he could give himself that.

She smiled softly, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "There are so many things, where do you want me to start? Your students adore you, just as you adore them. You've been here for decades and know the ins and outs of the school. Your enthusiasm for the job is unmatched, perhaps only Charlie coming close. And I trust you. You would do so much good for the school because you care. The last thing you would do is hurt those around you. You're inherently _good,_ Neville. You're the perfect replacement for me to lead Hogwarts into a new era."

A single tear pricked his right eye, running down his cheek. "You thought about it that much?"

"It's my job to think about it. The last this I want is some disorderly lout taking over the school." She crossed her arms. "So, what do you say?"

"I need some time to think about it."

"I wouldn't expect any less."

There was a beat of silence then:

"This is huge!" Neville gestured grandly as he spoke, eyes beginning to shine with the possibilities the position presented. "Thing things I could do, the problems I could solve!" McGonagall seemed rather perturbed from the abrupt turnaround in Neville's mood. Her fingers tapped on the desk and she hummed amusedly. The sound was pleasant.

For the next hour, they talked about nothing and everything in particular. Neville often brought up his plants, and McGonagall her prize students. Eventually, she departed with a warm farewell, leaving Neville to his tumultuous thoughts.

Three months later, Hogwarts gained a new Headmaster.

And what a Headmaster he was.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter is done! I really enjoyed writing this. Let's see how this series goes.
> 
> Question of the chapter: If you could travel anywhere, where would it be and why?
> 
> Sincerely,  
> Mariadoria
> 
> :)


	2. The Floor Is Lava

To the seventh years of Hogwarts, the siren that echoed around the halls on a Thursday was familiar. It was a sound only heard once or twice for many of them. Despite this, it was a sound that was intricately planned for, with many hours spent mapping out routes and escapes. This occurrence was rare, one that was extremely fun, and one completely unknown to the first years, who were currently running around like headless chickens in the Great Hall amongst the far calmer upper years.

One of them, a small boy with blond hair, ran up to a seventh year. "What is going on? Is there an attack?" It was a strange question to ask, considering there was no war going on at the current time. There hadn't been a Wizarding War since Grindelwald, which was over ten years ago. "Has Hogwarts malfunctioned?"

The seventh year, Grady, snorted into his book. Dismay crossed the first year's face, rapidly turning into indignation. Grady grinned. "You'll find out soon enough. What's your name?" The first year crossed his arms,

"Why should I tell you?"

"Do you want help?"

He huffed, before saying, "Briar. Henry Briar." The newly named Briar took a seat next to Grady, eyes expectant. "So...what is the siren?"

"It's somewhat of a...tradition around Hogwarts." Grady stood abruptly, gathering his books. He glanced down at Briar. "Be ready."

And with that, he left, ignoring Briar's calls of, "Be ready for what? Hey, I'm talking to you!".

Briar sat there in utter disbelief, mouth hanging so obscenely wide he revealed a rather stunned codfish. Grady didn't tell him what was going on. Just to 'be ready.' He gulped, unable to expel the foreboding feeling brewing in his chest. The siren couldn't be super dangerous, otherwise, the teachers would be running an evacuation, frantically ushering the students to the safest place in Hogwarts. There had to be some element of danger or risk to it, though. The older students wouldn't be huddling together if there wasn't.

As he spiralled deeper down into his thoughts, a girl sat down next to him. Her rough tap on the shoulder shook him out of it. A glance up revealed the girl to be his classmate Dee Mahoney. He wouldn't go as far as to call her a friend, but they were on amicable terms.

"Any ideas what is going on? I saw you talking to Grady." She smiled brightly, teeth on full display."Come on, spill." Mahoney shuffled closer, leaning in. "There's got to be something."

This girl had no sense of personal space at all. Best to answer her and get it out of the way. "He told me nothing at all. Nothing of much use, anyhow. Only to be ready, whatever that means."

"Oh my Merlin! I think my older sister mentioned something about this a few years ago." Her hands started flailing about. Briar shifted slightly to the left so he wouldn't end up with a red mark marring his face, listening intently. "She said that every few years, there is a challenge that goes back generations. She said several parts of Hogwarts become invisible and it's a game to find your way across and to your classes on time. This must be it!"

"I suppose you could be correct," Briar mused. It did make a great deal of sense. Mahoney's older sister was in her sixth year, meaning she would have likely experienced something like this before. "Well, we'd better prepare for the worst. I think there are some books in the library with spells to stop invisibility. They may be of some help. We have a free period, checking them out would be a good idea.

"Yes, that! We'll do that. I'll just go grab Shelley and Don." As she scuttled away, Briar couldn't help the groan that escaped him. While Mahoney was tolerable, her friends Shelley Baxter and Don Young were insufferable. "Alright, we're back!"

The three stood in front of him, all grinning and fidgeting. He would never understand how three idiots such as these managed to get into Ravenclaw. Wasn't the house supposed to be upstanding? There wasn't time for such rational thoughts. Right now, he needed to be worrying about Hogwarts potentially vanishing (he didn't completely believe Mahoney's theory). Having three more brains, immature as they were, would be a great help.

"To the library. And try to keep quiet." His voice was clipped as he tried desperately not to betray his annoyance. His mother hammered into him the importance of having other people like you but never liking other people. She was a Slytherin through and through. Some of her judgements he didn't agree with, but most of them he did.

"Aw, but this is so much fun. The four of us, on an adventure. We're like the three musketeers." Baxter paused slightly, chewing her lip. "You could be a horse, Briar."

"I don't know what story you are talking about. I would never be a horse. If anything, you would be the horse." He walked slightly in front of them so as to ignore their insufferable faces.

"It's a muggle story," chimed in Young. "And he wouldn't be a horse. He's too smart for that. Why can't we all be musketeers? The fourkateers? Fourskateers? Ah, I'll figure it out later."

Briar decided that perhaps Young wasn't so bad.

They finally reached the library. Briar listened to their idle chatter, often interrupting with a dry judgement of his own. For some odd reason, the other three often laughed at his comments. Their infectious laughter quirked the corners of his lips and made him want to join in on the conversation a little more often. He often found himself thinking like that, but he ignored it in favour of his mother's teachings.

"Where are those books, Briar?" asked Mahoney. "And before you say anything, yes, I love the library and come here a lot. Not all of us catalogue the entire thing, you know." Briar shut his mouth, point thoroughly refuted.

"Not that it's a bad thing," added Young. "It's actually very handy. I wish I had a memory like yours." He sighed dramatically.

Young was now his favourite.

"Hard work is all it takes." Where did that come from? "The books on invisibility are just through here. Follow me." Briar began weaving through the towering wooden shelves of books, scrolls and manuscripts. Early morning light filtered through the large windows, casting long shadows behind them. Mahoney and Baxter entertained themselves by walking like the models on the cover of the new magazine Witch Weekly.

Briar took them deeper and deeper into the maze that was the Hogwarts Library. He breathed in the familiar, musty scent of ancient books mixing with crisp pages fresh off the press. This was where he felt most at home, among the tomes, surrounded by knowledge. Here, there were no rules to follow (except normal library rules, but they didn't count), no-one to tell him what he could and couldn't do.

"This is amazing! I've never seen this part of the library!" exclaimed Mahoney as they rounded the last corner. These books were some of the more obscure ones, unknown to even some of the older years. Briar took pride in knowing the library so well. That same pride flooded him now, catching him off guard.

"Welcome, I guess," Briar said. He shook himself back to his usual manner of speaking. "The books that you are looking for are on this shelf here." He reached up and pulled a few key ones down. There wasn't time to sift through endless information. Something told him that whatever Grady told him to be ready for was coming sooner, rather than later. With a flick of his wand and a charm his mother taught him, three more floated down, settling on the desk with a flutter.

Six books sat in front of them. "Egnotiatus Invisibility," Briar said. The pages began rustling back and forth, slight puffs of wind disturbing their hair. They soon stopped on the exact chapters that were needed. "There we go."

"Where did you learn that charm? It's amazing. That would save so much time studying!" Mahoney gushed.

"Um, my mother?" Briar was suddenly feeling exceedingly awkward. "She's taught me a lot over the years, more than I probably should know. No time for that! Let's start looking at these books. I'll take these two," he gestured to the ones closest to him, "and you three can split the other four. We're looking for anything to do with Hogwarts and invisibility."

"We know," teased Baxter, drawing out the 'o' sound. "You aren't the only one in Ravenclaw, you know. Other people do have brains."

"Not that you use them correctly," he parried back. Young, once again, snorted. "Alright, chop-chop! These books aren't going to read themselves." He paused, then muttered to himself, "Though, that would be a wonderful spell. Maybe I should look into it."

Their research period flashed by. None of the books held any information about Hogwarts turning invisible, except for the one mention about an invisible staircase in 1472. Briar and the others followed up on the lead, managing to find a few stray mentions of invisibility over the years. Only three, though. Nothing close enough to their time for Mahoney's sister to learn about. The theory of it being a tradition kept out of books to surprise first years was discussed.

Forty minutes later, exactly an hour after the siren sounded, found the four first years deeply engrossed in a discussion about ancient invisibility charms and spells. Briar was seated on a chair, feet propped up on the supports. Mahoney and Young perched on the edge of a table, Baxter pacing back and forth. Their eyes gleamed with excitement.

Perhaps, Briar thought, there was a reason they were in Ravenclaw. The Sorting Hat did always have a reason for doing these things. He sighed to himself, glancing down at the floor. Immediately, his eyes snapped open.

"Don't touch the floor! Baxter, get on something!" He scrambled off his wooden chair onto a bench, tamping down his fear. "Now, Baxter!" She leapt up onto a table, bushy black hair falling out of its braid.

She did it just in time, too. Before his very eyes, the worn wooden floor started smoking, a deadly orange colour seeping through. Heat rose instantly, causing Briar's eyes to water. He brought his robe up to cover his mouth, coughing slightly. It wasn't on fire, though. The floor, so hot it almost glowed, moved sluggishly through the aisles. Realisation slapped him in the face.

"It's lava!"

"We can see that!" coughed Mahoney. He glanced over at the three of them, all huddled on a table. A table that was wooden. A wooden table that wasn't catching fire in the blistering heat, yet it touched the lava. That meant…

"It's not real!" Briar and Young cried at the same time. They paused, awkwardly glancing at each other. Briar took that as an opportunity to speak first.

"This has to be what the siren was on about. We were wrong with the invisibility. Mahoney, your sister is a whole idiot."

She glared playfully back, shuffling around to give more space to her friends. "It's not like I didn't already know that. All my siblings are idiots."

"How many do you have?"

"Four!"

"That's too many."

"I know that Briar, I live with them."

"Would you two shut up!" Baxter shouted, before they carried on. "This can wait until later. We have lava right now. Let's deal with that and worry about siblings later. Later, Briar." He dropped the issue. "It can't be real lava, otherwise the table would be burning."

"The whole castle would be burning," said Mahoney. "There must be no risk to use if we touch the lava."

"Not lava."

"We'll just call it lava, Briar, it's easier. Carrying on—"

"Oh my God! It's the Floor is Lava!" Young jumped to his feet. "It's a muggle game that I play with my friends. This must be the wizarding version of it. Here, look." He grabbed the book he was studying, and before Briar could yell "No!" he chucked it down into the lava.

It didn't burn. A golden light surrounded it for a split second before it disappeared in a dramatic puff of smoke. Briar blinked owlishly, taking the robe down from his mouth to taste normal air. The 'smoke' was a trick, as the heat seemed to be. Illusions. He chuckled, overtaken by the brilliance of it. This was incredible.

"—iar! Briar! Earth to Henry Briar!"

"Mmm?"

"We have class in twenty minutes and it's on the other side of the castle."

"I was half right! We have to get to class on time, I mean," Mahoney added at the incredulous looks sent her way. "Maybe my sister isn't too bad."

"We still have to get to class," Young insisted.

"Indeed we do. Without touching the floor, lest we want to disappear like that poor book. Madam Pince is going to be livid, you know." Briar stood, surveying the area around them. The four of them were deep in a corner of the library, making the distance needed to be travelled difficult. The path wouldn't be all the hard, as the benches were close together and wrapped all the way around the shelves. The real challenge would come outside of the library, getting to the dungeons.

He groaned. It was utterly typical that it was the dungeons. Some scaling of precarious surfaces would be needed. Briar suddenly found himself very grateful for the seemingly useless knick-knacks and tables scattered around the halls of Hogwarts.

"Follow me," he said, gesturing to the others. "Getting out won't be that hard. Getting to the dungeons will be the real challenge."

"We know, Briar." Baxter. Of course, it was her.

Briar ignored her and, with his bag firmly on his back, leapt across the aisle and onto the next workbench. He wobbled for a second, arms wheeling wildly. Thankfully he didn't fall. He walked around to the other side, careful not to step on the books left out by uncaring students who were currently in the same boat as him.

Three sets of footsteps thumped behind him. The others were there and hadn't fallen. Good. He continued forward, traversing the library with skill and precision. Well, as much skill and precision as he could manage. Even though he knew the lava was fake, his mind made up wild theories about what would happen if he were to fall in it. Where would he go? Who else would be there, having failed the challenge? And, most importantly, what kind of magic was used to enchant it? That was one he needed to know and would eventually find out.

The door of the library loomed near. It hung open, inviting them to dare try to step through it. Now that he could see the rest of Hogwarts, his jaw went slack.

Orange light reflected off the walls like sunlight through stained glass. Students were scaling the walls like monkeys, yelping as they fell off and disappeared in the 'lava.' The older students, sixth and seventh years, had a predetermined path planned out as they deftly hopped from table to railing. Some even hung off the edge of painting frames, ignoring the furious shouts of the inhabitants.

Put quite simply, Hogwarts was in pandemonium.

So was Briar. Between the bench he was on and the safety of a railing outside, there was nothing. No tables or chairs, the walls now suspiciously smooth. It would be impossible to get over there by leaping onto something...unless.

"I'll levitate you three across, then you do the same for me."

"Will the charm work? We're quite heavy to be lifting by yourself," asked Young.

"I suppose two of us could do it at a time to ensure safety."

"Oh my God you sound like my mum when she goes to work," moaned Baxter. "But it's a good idea. Let's do it."

And so they eventually all made it across, beginning the next step of their journey. Though they would never make it on time to Professor Slughorn's class, Briar was sure that the kindly professor wouldn't mind in the slightest if he was among the group. He was always sure to have close relationships with teachers in case a situation like this arose. His techniques paid off!

Fifteen minutes later, they jumped from a table to a slowly moving rug travelling in the general direction of the potions classroom. When all four of them were on, Briar breathed a sigh of relief. Even though these people (except Young) weren't his favourite, they needed to stick together. He would consider it a personal failure if even one of them fell into the lava now.

"That was quite the adventure," puffed Mahoney, plopping herself down on the rug. She ran her fingers through it appreciatively. "Nice to have a break, aye?"

"Yeah, something like that," said Young. He stood standing, shifting from foot to foot so as not to topple over into Briar.

"Uh, guys?"

"I have to say, you three aren't as bad as I previously thought," Briar absentmindedly said. "And you may have half a brain each."

"Such a compliment coming from you," Young chuckled.

"Guys!"

"Have we started to soften him," cooed Mahoney, making embarrassing faces at Briar. He stuck his chin up.

"No. Not in the slightest."

"GUYS!" Baxter shouted. Their conversation stopped immediately, all eyes turning to Baxter. "Thank you. Now, if you would listen, the rug is sinking."

"What? Why didn't you say something?" Young huffed. "There's a table we can jump to over there."

"There's only room for one!" Briar exclaimed. "Oh. Now there's room for none." Before his very eyes, a very familiar seventh year somehow dropped from the ceiling onto the table, light as a feather. He laughed upon seeing them.

"Rule one of The Floor is Lava, firsties. Never, ever, hitch a ride on a rug." Grady gave a gleeful grin upon seeing their panicked faces. "Nice knowing you. Might want to get out while you can, you're sinking."

"We know that," snarled Briar. In his annoyed state, he thought it was a good idea to reach down and attempt to scoop the lava out with his bare hands, ignoring the frantic shouts of Baxter, Mahoney and Young.

Next thing he knew all he could see was a blinding golden light. He was falling down, wind whipping his hair all over the place. He stopped abruptly, sitting on a soft cushion. The room around his was plush and filled to the brim with disgruntled students, moaning and groaning over their own failure. Briar cursed himself, clambering to his feet. How stupid did he need to be to try and shovel the lava with his bare hands?

Oh, Grady had it coming to him. Briar was going to make his year as inconvenient as possible and not be caught.

"Briar! Hey! Over here!"

He whipped around and saw three familiar faces smiling back at him. How...why were they smiling? Grady would have been off the table, and levitating was an option.

"What are you guys doing here?"

"We're here with you, silly. We couldn't let you brood alone. So what if we're late to class? You'd brood a hole into the wall the rate you're going." Baxter's optimism, for the first time, put a small smile on Briar's face. "You're one of us now."

"What if I don't want to be?"

"No choice. You helped us out back there, so our friendship is the least we could offer in return." Mahoney stepped forward and enveloped Briar in a hug. He froze, arms sticking out at awkward angles.

"I don't think I'm a hugging person."

"You will be," reassured Young. "The Fourkateers are here!"

"Don, that will never catch on," said Baxter.

"Watch me, it will. We're the fourkateers."

"You make us sound like cutlery!"

Briar smiled to himself. Perhaps liking people wasn't so bad. But seriously, next time he wouldn't lose.

Game on, Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This turned out a nice little character piece, I think. A bit longer than I thought, as well, but I enjoy reading it. Hope you did too.
> 
> My answer to last chapter's question: I would travel to Ireland, as it's where a lot of my ancestors are from. I really want to explore my past, see where I come from. The thought of it fascinates me.
> 
> Question of the Chapter: What is your favourite Harry Potter book and why?
> 
> Sincerely,  
> Mariadoria
> 
> :)


	3. The Menace Called McGonagall

Albus Dumbledore, Transfiguration Professor and Head of Gryffindor, considered himself a man not easily intimidated. A year earlier he defeated Grindelwald, so making him feel unsettled was quite a feat. It wasn't usual, nor was it easy. It was something often attempted and always failed.

Yet this tiny, Scottish girl with sharp eyes, thin lips and black hair pulled back into a severe bun was giving him a serious case of the heebie-jeebies. Every time she looked his way, wand held elegantly in her hand, the incantation of the lesson spilling flawlessly from her lips, he couldn't help but feel...intimidated. It was impossible to pinpoint what it was about her.

Was it her gaze, so intense and thirsty for knowledge? Her unbidden curiosity for the unknown? The verbal smackdown of the Pureblood boy sitting across the room who 'dared to scorn my family and heritage?' So far, she'd only been to two lessons and already she was pulling far ahead of her peers.

He glanced up from his marking, eyes landing on the small girl in question. She was like a hurricane, whirling around the room of her own will and helping out other students, even those that offended her. Perhaps someday in the future, she could be a teacher. Judging by the way she was helping, it was as natural to her as breathing. Add in that she was correcting them, well...correctly, and he felt slightly proud.

Not that he wasn't still slightly unsettled by her.

"Professor, is she allowed to be helping?" Dumbledore turned to his left. A tiny Gryffindor, Delbert Lamont, stood by his desk. "Aren't you the teacher?"

"Why yes, I am, Mr Lamont. There's something I would like to tell you, though." He stood, moving around his desk. "I like to encourage independence and initiative in my students. If she was teaching the wrong way, I would stop her. But do you see any problem with what she is doing, how she is teaching?"

"I suppose not, Professor." Lamont looked thoughtful. "Do you think I could ask her to help me?"

"I don't see why not." With those words, the boy scampered over to Minerva, butting straight into the middle of her helping another student. The glare she gave Lamont...oh, that was the look of a teacher alright. As he watched her make Lamont wait his turn, he couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled within his throat. There was just something about this girl.

The rest of the lesson went off without a hitch. Dumbledore made his way into the fray when he deemed that Minerva had done enough, gently telling her to go back to her seat.

"There are still people that I want to help, Professor." She crossed her arms, eyes narrowed, lips pursed, up at Dumbledore.

"I know that, but there are some things that you have to leave to the teacher. If you want to help people even more, outside of class, why don't you consider starting your own transfiguration study group for first years? I'm sure that there would be many who would appreciate your help."

Disgruntled murmurs sounded around the room. Minerva frowned. "I don't think that would come to that. They don't really like me teaching them. They're already calling me a teacher's pet." Dumbledore couldn't help but notice the slight hunching over of her body language, eyes downcast.

"You of all people should know that you're not a teacher's pet, Miss McGonagall. I wouldn't let you be. What I think you're doing is magnificent work, actually. You're helping them marvellously."

"I suppose I am, aren't I?" She straightened back up, smiling brightly. She then turned to him and looked him dead in the eye. "Thank you, Albus."

"That's Professor to you, Miss McGonagall."

She shook her head. "No, you're Albus now." Dumbledore took a step back at how sharp her voice became. How could one eleven year old be so lovely, yet so scary? Well, Dumbledore supposed, to her, he was now Albus.

He shook his head as she returned to her desk, her perfectly transfigured needle gleaming on her desk. One day, she would do great things, he was sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a shorter piece here. The image of eleven-year-old McGonagall doing this is simply too powerful.
> 
> My answer to the last chapters question: My favourite HP book is the Prisoner of Azkaban. I'm a time travel addict (my top three films are Terminator 2: Judgement Day, Back to the Future and Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban) so of course it was going to be my favourite.
> 
> Question of the Day: If you could have any superpower, what would it be and why?
> 
> See you tomorrow,  
> Mariadoria
> 
> :)


	4. The Saturday Snape Soiree of 1988

Whoever said that the ultimate pranksters in Hogwarts history were the Marauders...they were partially mistaken. There were many other groups throughout the years who became pranking masters. Several of note were the Founders, with Hufflepuff being directly responsible for 'The Floor is Laughter,' and the unknown instigator of the Great Gobstone War of 1873. Pranking was almost a culture, a tradition some might say, within the mighty walls of Hogwarts.

With this knowledge, a lot of the students were slightly on edge. It was March of 1988 and the last major prank was over two months ago. With every day, the atmosphere became stifling, overflowing with tension, apprehension and the slightest hint of anticipation. Even the slightest movement out of the ordinary made them jump. The stairs moved the left instead of right? Students sprinting in the other direction? The password to the common room changed abruptly? Students camped out in the halls. The podium of a professor shifted a quarter of an inch to the right? Everyone was on the look for the culprit.

But these were only precursors. See, the magic of Hogwarts was difficult to explain. Not quite just a castle, but not sentient like mirrors or cars became when they were enchanted. The best way to explain it would be to say that Hogwarts, over the years, gained a very distinctive personality. Often things disappeared, corridors would suddenly go in the opposite direction and paintings switched locations. Because of this, mischief was something Hogwarts could sense and it loved to help out.

In this case, the castle knew that four students, two from Hufflepuff, one from Ravenclaw and the last from Gryffindor, were planning something huge. Something that would be remembered for years to come as one of the best pranks. All four of the students were in the top half of the classes, not necessarily close friends, but close enough to know the traits of the others.

While they were planning and in the first stages of their preparations, which were taking over a month due to the extremely finicky nature of the prank, Hogwarts decided to get in on the action. Seeing frazzled students reacting in this way was hilarious to the castle and even better for the students planning the prank, as all attention was off of them. This was perfect, as the prank was drawing ever closer.

"Today is the day," the first crowed. She was short, with not much neck and stubby fingers. The second, impossibly tall and bulky, rapidly shushed her.

"Don't go shouting it about like a banshee, Hazel, anyone could hear."

"Kai, you really believe that?" chimed in the third, her voice raspy and long hair pulled back into a braid.

"I'm sure he does, Maria." The fourth, with her dark eyes and gleaming teeth, grinned.

"Merlin's beard, would you guys stop? I'm allowed to be excited, Janea." lamented Hazel. The fourth grinned even wider. "Today a months worth of work is coming together."

"Two months, actually, you're not counting the time we took to gather the ingredients. Well, the time I took to get the—"

"Janea, we get it, you're the best at stealth," Kai sighed. "Now shhh, this is the most important part." He glanced up at the gabled window, moonlight streaming through. Five hours to go. Being up at three on a Saturday morning wasn't the most sensible idea. This part of the castle, near the kitchen, was always crawling with professors just itching to catch a student out of bed.

Hazel grunted, hefting the cauldron up higher so it didn't drop to the ground. "I wish feather-light charms were compatible with potions, this is a pain. Why can't Kai carry this?"

"He's already doing that, there are two cauldrons, Hazel." Maria covered her mouth as she giggled. "We all know that you like him, with his big arms and—"

"No!" shrieked Hazel. She turned to Kai. "That's not true. It isn't." As she said this, a flaming blush spread over her cheeks like wildfire. Kai chuckled, already very aware of this fact. It was common knowledge among the seventh years at Hogwarts, along with her vehement denial of that fact.

"Let's just stay quiet," hissed Janea. "There could be teachers anywhere, and we don't want to wake up the paintings. The kitchens are just down a few flights of stairs and around the corner. Don't blow it now."

"Ever the mother, aren't you?" Maria pulled her dark robes closer around her. The colourful house patches on each of their robes (yellow for Hazel and Kai, Blue for Maria and red for Janea) were covered to avoid them being identified by their robes if someone saw them from a distance.

"I have to be with you three around, don't I?"

"Oi!"

"Shhhhh!"

The bickering continued down three flights of stairs and around five corners until they reached a basement corridor decorated with splendiferous portraits of fruit and lit by the flickering light of torches.

"Okay, we're here. Maria?" said Kai. Maria, being the tallest one of the group who wasn't carrying a cauldron, reached up and tickled the pear. It jumped around slightly before the painting swing open with a creak to reveal a large archway leading into the well-lit, bustling, gargantuan kitchens of Hogwarts. House-elves scampered around, carrying trays of food and chattering to each other. No one seemed to notice the students staring in awe at the kitchen (save for Janea) in the doorway.

"Follow me," said Janea excitedly, gesturing for the others to follow. "No need to be quiet now. The house-elves love a good bit of mischief if it doesn't interfere directly with their job. They'll be all over this."

"I believe you, you've said that so many times." Kai entered second, waiting for a house-elf to tell him where to put the cauldron down. One soon scampered over, nervously wringing her hands.

"Is yous wanting to put the cauldrons down, sirs and madames?"

"That would be lovely, thank you," said Janea. "Could you be very careful with it? The contents are precious."

"Of course, madame! Anything for someone so kind!" A small army of house-elves rushed forward, taking the cauldrons and placing them gently on a bench. The four stepped back, satisfied with their work.

"Now, there are a very specific set of instructions we need you to follow," instructed Maria. "What we need you to do is…."

Saturday morning rose bright and early. Students of Hogwarts blearily stumbled into the Great Hall, absentmindedly going about their business. Chatter filled the air, all topics and conversation game. The enchanted ceiling was a happy blue, the odd fluffy cloud drifting lazily across the expanse

Hazel, Kai, Maria and Janea ate their breakfast as normal, shooting anxious glances around them as the hall slowly filled up. Their prank was dependent on their peers drinking the goblets laid out in front of them, a deliciously sweet pumpkin juice. Hopefully, the sweetness of it would distract from the vile taste contained within.

If everything went well, Hogwarts would be in pandemonium in exactly twenty minutes.

Maria slowly drank hers, which was the signal for the others to do the same. They were sitting strategically so that they could see each other. This wasn't the extent of their cunning. Their cups were laced with the same substance as everyone else. It would be extremely difficult to catch them, that's for sure.

Delighted cries went up as the sweetness was discovered. The four tamped down smirks and continued as if everything was normal. The teachers didn't notice anything out of the ordinary (Snape's usual glowering at any house other than Slytherin didn't count) and it would hopefully stay that way. Inside their heads, a clock began ticking when the five-minute mark came.

Four. Feet began tapping in agitation, the chatter seemingly growing in volume.

Three. The last of the student body trickling in and eating their food, gulping down the 'special' pumpkin juice.

Two. Their stomachs bubbling as it began to take effect, an uncomfortable tingling covering their bodies. Other students started murmuring in discomfort, the noise slowly building.

One. Skin started shifting like something was crawling around under it. Uncomfortable sensations covered everyone (including the teachers). Startled cries, frantic footsteps, people tripping over each other with reckless abandonment.

Go.

Horrified screams sounded as people realised the next prank had been played. Many were trying to convince themselves that this wasn't real, while a small select few were laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of what was happening. One person, in particular, was giving the entire student population a death glare. If looks could kill everyone would be dead. But, there was just reason for this one person to be disgruntled.

For almost everyone in the Great Hall now resembled Snape.

Greasy hair hung down around sallow faces, sharp dark eyes glaring down oversized hooked noses. Hundreds of students were flapping their robes, which had been transfigured to resemble the bat-like robes of Snape. The teachers were included in this, causing their table to look like someone went ham on the copy-paste function. By far the most abnormal part of this phenomenon was hearing Snape's voice, so often dripping with disdain and hatred, laughing and happy.

Maria gave a victorious thumbs up to the rest of her groups, a blink and miss it motion. Being caught was, surprisingly, not on their to do list. Spiking their own drinks was their way of disguising the real culprits. With all of their careful preparation, especially thanks to Maria, it was virtually impossible to tell who did it.

The cacophony was shut off abruptly by several fireworks blasting off in the air. Multicoloured light bathed the hall as they crackled and popped. Dumbledore, or who they assumed was Dumbledore, lowered his wand and spoke in a booming voice that wasn't his own:

"It seems that we have been struck again. I must advise you to go about as normal. This is due to Polyjuice Potion, so it should wear off in an hour." Janea stifled a snigger. That wasn't true here. "Enjoy your day and may this go down as one of the greatest pranks in Hogwarts history. Don't you agree, Severus?"

He glared at Dumbledore. "I will not dignify that with a reply."

"Please," continued Dumbledore, "finish your breakfast. We will catch who did this. That's me for now."

In the hubbub, Hazel, Kai and Maria slipped over to the Gryffindor table, sitting down next to Janea.

"It worked, I can't believe it," crowed Hazel.

Maria hastily shushed her. "Have you ever heard of tact, Haze? Shhhhhh, not here."

"The next hours are going to be glorious," sighed Janea. She was usually a stickler for the rules, but pranks like this were the exception. Especially when her obscure potions knowledge, thanks to her entrepreneurial grandmother, came to good use. For example: expanding the length of time that Polyjuice Potion was in effect for with ingredients sounding ridiculous even to Witches and Wizards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Number four done! I'm also sneaking in little Easter Eggs to other shows, to be on the lookout for those.
> 
> My answer to the last chapter's question: I would have pyrokinesis. I love fire so much and there's so much you can do with it. If it wasn't that, it would probably be the ability to fly, with visible wings. Always loved that.
> 
> Question of the chapter: What's your favourite food and why?
> 
> Sincerely,  
> Mariadoria
> 
> :)


	5. Unity

No one was quite sure what caused the small group of Slytherins to camp outside the door to their common room, to begin with. On the first night, it was only three of them. Then it became ten, then twenty, until it seemed like the entire house was outside the doors. The amount of sleeping bags lining the corridors was frankly alarming.

On the third day, three Hufflepuffs discovered the reason for the camping. With open arms, they invited the Slytherins to stay in their common room until the problem was resolved. The offer was gladly accepted, and that was how many friendships were formed, and how many students learned how to transfigure bunk beds up the walls.

On the fourth day, the Ravenclaws attempted to forcibly unlock the door. So many spells and incantations, spat at the door with vitriol and frustrations, were fired at the door that day. None of them worked, none even cracking the entrance open.

On the fifth day, the Gryffindors attempted to ram the door open. Many bruised shoulders were treated my Madam Pomfrey that day. That didn't stop them from trying again, though nothing worked.

Still, the Slytherins slept in the Hufflepuff common room, finding comfort in the warm yellow colours, and slowly losing faith in their Head of House, recently appointed by Headmaster Longbottom.

On the sixth day, Professor Smythe was sent out of the front gates of Hogwarts with a furious Headmaster Longbottom standing in the courtyard, wand still sparking.

He turned around, eyes burning in fury, and said, "If this ever happens again, come to me immediately. I will never let any of you be hurt like this again, do you understand? The password resets for every house now have to come through me. I will always protect every single one of you."

And as he walked back inside, cloak flowing out behind him, all the students of every house silently thanked Merlin that their Headmaster was as kind and strong as he was.

For the greatest feat of Neville Longbottom as Headmaster was unifying the five houses, the discord between them now a long distant memory of decades passed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one today, but everything I wanted to say was said. This one is close to my heart, and I really enjoyed writing it.
> 
> Until tomorrow,  
> Mariadoria

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter is done! I really enjoyed writing this. Let’s see how this series goes.
> 
> Sincerely,  
> Mariadoria
> 
> :D


End file.
